


Confessions as Currency

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Coming Untouched, Confessions, Dirty Talk, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Injuries, Outdoor Sex, Pre-Canon, SO, brief medical stuff, john absolutely intends to blow arthur then arthur is like hm i wanna see you get off, wowza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 09:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: “What ‘bout you?” Arthur asks quietly as he strokes the bottom few inches of his length while John’s fingers cradle the head.John leans his hips forward against the wagon.It doesn’t help much, the hard, unrelenting wood, but it’s a solid thing to press against.He feels his face flushed bright and hot as he avoids Arthur’s eyes.“C’mon, you wanna repay me?” Arthur whispers, “Tell me.”





	Confessions as Currency

“John,” Arthur murmurs as he moves to straighten up from bending over.

Blood on his fingers as he sets the needle down.

Extra thread still hanging down John's arm under the freshly sewn up gash.

“Arthur, if you're ‘bout to pull an ‘I told you so’... save it.”

The older man quirks his mouth to the side in annoyance.

Even if he had been planning on it, John deserved it.

Running through a storm of gunfire just to get to Arthur after the older man had been tackled by some lawman.

Arthur brings the scissors up and snips the excess thread.

“Keep that clean,” Arthur grumbles, moves to pull away, to step back from between John's legs where the young man is perched in the back of one of their wagons.

He doesn't make it.

A bloody hand curls into the front of his already ruined shirt.

Arthur looks down at John curiously.

“Thank you…”

“No problem.”

“I want to…” John fidgets and rubs the pad of his thumb over the lacquered wood of a button.

Mutters.

“Wanna repay you.”

Arthur tenses in front of him.

Hesitates.

“We talked ‘bout this, we ain't like that. When in all these years you been with us has it been like that?”

“Arthur…” John clenches his jaw then looks away.

Uses the grip on the older man's shirt to pull Arthur closer and fit their hips together.

“...John,” Arthur says softly, carefully.

“Dammit,” John hisses, “Just _let me_.”

Arthur sucks on his teeth then sets the scissors down next to John's hip.

Finally, the young man looks up at him.

Dark eyes full of determination.

“...Okay.” Arthur relents, quietly.

John inhales sharply, having not expected the acceptance so quickly.

“... Really?” John whispers.

“Don’t rip your stitches,” Arthur mutters then observes the younger silently, waiting for John to take the lead.

“What do you…” John struggles to form the right words, to ask the right questions as his fingers worry one of the buttons.

“Obviously you had somethin’ in mind,” Arthur mutters.

John fingers still and he lowers his gaze to look at them.

“‘Posed to be for you…”

Arthur huffs softly.

“Is it? Or is that just an excuse?” The older man asks.

“I…” John retracts his hand to his lap and keeps his eyes looking low, “I ain’t tryin’ to force you.”

“I know.”

“You…” John fidgets in frustration and somehow feels trapped even if he got here by his own hand.

“What was your plan, hm?” Arthur asks softly, but even without John holding him in place now, he doesn’t make an effort to move back.

John lets the insides of his knees cradle Arthur’s sides.

“Wanted to blow ya,” John admits.

Arthur shifts slightly, the fissure of heat that simple confession inspires cracks him open.

He studies the younger carefully.

“John?” Arthur asks quietly.

The younger looks up through messy hair, fallen into his face.

“Switch places with me,” Arthur commands then pulls away, making room.

John blinks wide eyes then slips off the wagon-bed and watches as Arthur hoists himself up.

The older man’s thicker thighs spread, boots dangling lazily just a few inches above the dirt and weeds.

Arthur’s looking at the surprised younger man with just enough amusement to lift the corner of his mouth and crinkle the outer corners of his eyes.

“Go ‘head, John,” Arthur offers before settling back on his hands.

John steps in so that he’s waist-wedged between Arthur’s thighs and his hands hover for a few seconds.

Gathering courage.

The younger man finally curses under his breath and unbuckles Arthur’s gun belt, letting it thunk onto the wood below the older man.

He comes to the laces of Arthur’s trousers and undoes them nimbly.

Feels heat tingling up and down his spine as he hesitates.

Feels Arthur watching him.

Feels one of the older man’s spurs poke at the back of his calf.

Looks up to see Arthur watching him, biting his lip with one brow lifted.

“This is… I can…?” John asks stutteringly.

Arthur smiles lazily and shrugs.

Regardless of their butting heads, John was one of the few people he felt one-hundred percent comfortable around.

John breathes out heavily then looks down to watch while he folds back the fabric of Arthur’s pants and splits his union suit to pull out Arthur’s cock.

Arthur’s leg twitches against his side but the older man makes no reaction otherwise.

John moves his thumb lightly over the soft cock and feels the heft of it, even now, against his palm.

Recalls every time he’s shoved his own fingers in his mouth while jacking off, pretending they were Arthur.

Presses his lips together and glances up one last time at Arthur’s curious expression before leaning down and dragging his tongue over the head as he pulls back the foreskin.

He hears Arthur’s stuttered inhale.

Feels, as he repeats the movement, the hardening and heavying of Arthur’s cock.

“Jesus,” John murmurs then moves to take the head in his mouth.

“Hah,” Arthur huffs and brings a hand up to thread into the younger’s tangled hair, “You done this before?”

John pulls off just enough to murmur.

“Only thought about it.”

“... Thought about me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Damn,” Arthur says and has to grip the base of his cock with the hand not in John’s hair as his length jerks.

John swallows hard and looks up at Arthur’s clenched-shut eyes.

“You like that?”

“You thinkin’ ‘bout me?” Arthur whispers, “Anyone would.”

John scoffs quietly and moves Arthur’s hand away so he can re-grip the older man’s cock.

“Mean it, John,” Arthur murmurs.

“You ever think ‘bout me?” John asks as he slowly, loosely strokes Arthur.

Glancing up from the foreskin covering and revealing the reddening head of Arthur’s dick.

Arthur’s eyes are barely open now, watching him intently.

“Have you?” John prompts.

“Couple days after your last birthday… We had to go to some city for Dutch to make a deal with some broker,” Arthur murmurs, carefully detangling John’s hair.

“I remember.”

“We had a little too much to drink at some uppity bar and had to make a run for it,” Arthur continues hesitantly.

“When I tripped in that alley and cut my chin?” John asks, rubbing his thumb over Arthur’s slit as he notices a wetness building there.

“Shit, yeah,” Arthur looks heavenward and swallows thickly, “You fell, took us both down and you ended up underneath me… You were laughin’ and had blood runnin’ down your neck but you didn’t give two shits.”

John straightens up slightly but never stops stroking.

Looks into Arthur’s eyes as the older man continues.

“And I know you remember some of that day… But the way we fell, you thought it was so funny, kept callin’ me ‘Big Man’ and makin’ it hard for me to stand up. Then you…” Arthur stops and exhales shakily, moves his hand back to his base and squeezes.

John glances down for just a second to see the pre-come dribbling out.

Bites his lip hard and looks back up, but feels the bead of it roll, wet and warm, over his thumb.

“Then I what?”

Arthur grunts and pokes the back of John’s calf with his spur again.

“Arthur, I don’t remember this, what’d I do?” John asks quietly.

“You just… You kinda grabbed me and pressed your hips up ‘gainst me and you were hard,” Arthur’s lips part and he squeezes himself again, “You mumbled something about me being inside you, but god it was the way you grabbed my arm. The look on your face. Like you could get off so easily just then, and you were so damn giddy over it.”

“Shit,” John whispers, feels himself hard in his own trousers.

“Yeah.”

“And you just remember that? … Or do you…?”

“Do I what?”

“Think ‘bout what could’ve happened.”

“If you hadn’t been shitfaced, you’d’ve never been that brave,” Arthur mutters, “But if you had… I’ve thought about pullin’ your pants outta the way and opening you up and fuckin’ you right then.”

John’s throat catches around and an unbidden sound of need and Arthur snorts quietly in amusement.

“What ‘bout you?” Arthur asks quietly as he strokes the bottom few inches of his length while John’s fingers cradle the head.

John leans his hips forward against the wagon.

It doesn’t help much, the hard, unrelenting wood, but it’s a solid thing to press against.

He feels his face flushed bright and hot as he avoids Arthur’s eyes.

“C’mon, you wanna repay me?” Arthur whispers, “Tell me.”

“I snuck out a while ago, was trying to find a wagon that’d been stolen from us. Turned out to be O’Driscolls, you had to come an’ save my ass.”

Arthur spur prods him when he pauses.

“You was furious, kept goin’ on an’ on ‘bout how I could’ve got myself shot,” John shifts his hips slightly at the memory, “You put your arm ‘gainst my throat and pinned me ‘gainst the side of the cabin to give me a talkin’-to and I just kept prayin’ it was dark enough that if you’d’ve looked down you wouldn’t of seen… Shit, _Arthur_ ,” John murmurs and bows his head before using the hand not on Arthur’s cock to palm his own through his pants.

“You said you thought ‘bout blowin’ me, too,” Arthur encourages, feeling a touch greedy.

Getting to see John like this and not wanting it to end.

“Hah, yeah, we were behind cover, I was kneelin’, you was standin’,” John squeezes himself and shuts his eyes, pressing into the wagon, seeking relief, “You were tellin’ me our plan, everythin’ I had to do next and I was hopin’ you’d just…”

John swallows hard around a whine as the hand in his hair grabs a few strands and lifts his head.

“You was hopin’ I’d _what?”_

“Start givin’ me other kinds o’ orders… Tell me to open your trousers and make myself useful while you was keepin’ watch.”

“Damn,” Arthur hisses, “You like that idea? Bein’ ordered around?”

“Only if it’s you.”

“Hell,” Arthur whistles lowly then strokes himself firmer, still slow, “How close are you?”

“...Pretty close.”

“Think you could come without bein’ touched?”

“Christ, Arthur,” John looks up at the older man, who’s blue eyes are dark with lust and a challenge.

“Do you? If I keep gettin’ you to talk?”

“I don’t know,” John says genuinely.

Arthur just hums, curls his leg around the back of John’s to keep him pressed against the wagon.

“You ever thought ‘bout my mouth on you?” Arthur asks softly.

“Everywhere.”

“Where’d you want it most?”

John squirms and moves both of his hands to grip Arthur’s thighs, needing some kind of anchor.

Feeling like he could melt into the earth at any moment.

“Bitin’ the back of my neck as you fuck me,” John whispers, and feels Arthur’s thighs tense and relax under his hands, looks down to see the stutter of the older man’s wrist in the length of one stroke.

“Anywhere else?”

“God, uh…” John feels his chest heaving slightly as his hips twitch forward.

Like a bit of pressure could help clear the heated fog of his mind.

“C’mon, Johnny, _anywhere else?”_

“Thighs, I guess… My hips, my hands, God. _Arthur,”_ John hisses and his shoulders tense up as he rocks his hips.

“God’s got no business between us, John,” The older man murmurs, “What about my hands, hm? Where’d you want them?”

John hates to admit that he whimpers just then, but there’s no other way to describe the sound he makes.

“Lemme guess… Everywhere?” Arthur whispers.

“Yankin’ my hair, brusin’ me up,” John says quick and quiet, “Your fingers ‘round my throat. Inside me.”

“Oh?” Arthur’s tone is curious.

John’s shoulders tense further and he digs his fingers into the meat of Arthur’s thighs.

“You got me… Curious, John, what am I callin’ you in these lil’ dreams?”

John makes a choked sound and curls in on himself slightly.

“Tell me all of the things you wanna be called,” Arthur prompts.

“‘Brat’, usually,” John mutters which inspires a small laugh from the older man.

“‘Course.”

“‘Darlin’’, sometimes,” John admits, feeling a little weaker for it.

“Sure,” Arthur says, his voice softer.

“‘Mine’... or ‘My boy’,” John says, voice the quietest it’s been since the conversation went in this direction.

Arthur makes a considering noise.

“You are my boy, ain’t you?” Arthur says, the tone of his voice like he’s realizing something, “Not Dutch’s, mine.”

“Yeah,” John admits.

“This how you get off? Thinkin’ about me fuckin’ you up?” Arthur asks.

John chest hitches and he nods, whole body tense.

“... Is that all of ‘em?”

“God, no,” John laughs miserably, thumb rubbing a crease on Arthur’s trousers.

“Keep tellin’ me then,” Arthur says, “Keep talkin’.”

“Some of ‘em are… I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or nothin’,” John says roughly.

Arthur rolls his eyes and moves his hand to John’s on his leg before closing the wrapping the smaller hand around his cock, closing his hand over John’s.

He moves John’s hand with his, has them both stroking his cock.

Can tell John is watching their hands move.

“Keep goin’,” Arthur murmurs, “You can tell me.”

“Arthur,” John whispers and his fingers clench around the older man’s cock.

“Go on then, Brat,” Arthur says, a little jokingly but the violent twitch of John’s hips has him raising a brow.

John curses under his breath.

“Sittin’ at the card table… Dark ‘nough no one can see your hand in my lap.”

“Hm,” Arthur squeezes John’s hand around him and the younger man shifts his weight restlessly.

“When we go down to the river together to get clean,” John says thickly, closing his eyes and curling closer.

“What about it?”

“You like to lay out in the grass n’ dry off ‘fore you put your clothes on,” John whispers.

“You like seein’ me like that?” Arthur asks softly, studying the tense lines of the younger man between his legs.

“Yeah,” John admits shakily, the fingers on Arthur’s thighs clenching and unclenching the fabric as his hips rock lightly.

“Want you to drag me into your lap, tell me to ride you,” John whispers.

Arthur hums, low and long.

“Arthur,” John gasps as pushes his hips hard against the wood, “Dammit.”

“Pull yourself out,” Arthur mutters, “Don’t mess your pants.”

John cries out softly and Arthur lets John pulls his hands away to wrestle his pants open and pull his cock out.

John grips himself, almost unconsciously and gives a few stokes.

 _‘So close’_ , he thinks.

Arthur carefully takes up both of the younger man’s hands and squeezes them.

“Arthur,” John begs quietly.

“Wanna see if you can,” Arthur replies and pulls John a little closer.

Gets the younger to look up at him.

John sees the blue eyes, soft, hot, and curious all at the same time.

He grits his teeth and feels Arthur’s calves curl around the back of his legs.

“You know I could’ve sworn,” Arthur admits quietly, the faintest lift to the corner of his mouth, “Could’ve sworn I heard you callin’ for me the other night, while we were camped way out in the woods. I was on watch and you weren’t ten feet away, bundled up to your nose.”

John squeezes Arthur’s hands.

“Thought you might’ve been havin’ a nightmare. Thinkin’ a little different now.”

John shifts his legs helplessly and presses closer, pushing his forehead against Arthur’s shoulder and trapping his cock against the wagon.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Arthur whispers.

“Yeah,” John hisses, rocks his hips.

The younger man’s face screws up and he bites back a whining sound.

“You woulda loved it, had I crawled into your bedroll, let you get off against me,” Arthur whispers, feeling his own toes curl in his boots.

“Jesus, Arthur,” John cries, hips jerking and stomach tensing.

“Just ask, next time.”

John gasps at that and it pulls him over, legs going stiff as he rips a hand away from Arthur’s grip to hold his length steady as he comes.

They both watch his release pool on the wood between Arthur’s thighs.

John gasps and squirms through it, legs trembling.

Arthur keeps one of John’s hands in his own and uses the other to stroke himself off, scooting back slightly only to clench his teeth around a moan as he adds to the mess.  


**Author's Note:**

> arthur is nothing if not a service top in regards to john you cannot convince me he would let someone blow him just for his sake  
> ((everytime i see someone call arthur a dom my head implodes seriously this is the 56th model this month y'all i'm running out of replacements))
> 
> anyway tumblr @gwennolmarie


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